Witness to a Miracle
by James D. Fawkes
Summary: The ramifications of a miracle are not limited to a single person; they ripple out and touch everyone.
1. Fate to Zero

**Witness to a Miracle  
>By: <strong>James D. Fawkes

**I: Fate to Zero  
>— o.0.O.O.0.o — <strong>

Louise Francoise Le Blanc de La Vallière was a failure as a mage.

It was certainly true that she knew magic. It was certainly true that there was no one at Tristain's Academy of Magic who studied as hard as her, who mastered the theory as completely as she did, and who tried as much as she did. That much was definitely true, and Louise had some pride in being the top of her class, of her _year_, in the theoretical aspects of magic.

But Louise could not cast magic.

No, more than just that, Louise utterly _failed_ at magic.

It might have been different, of course, if her spells just didn't work — if she said the words, recited the incantations, and nothing happened at all. But that wasn't what happened.

When Louise failed at magic, she didn't fail because nothing happened or because she was not a mage in the first place. When Louise failed at magic, it was because the spells simply _didn't work_. Everything she tried from every element, and even spells that didn't rely on the elements at all, did one irrefutable thing, and did it every time.

They blew up.

And it wasn't that they just fizzled and popped harmlessly. When Louise's spells failed, they failed _catastrophically_.

Thankfully, no one was ever seriously injured in those explosions, nor, Founder forbid, did anyone die, but Louise had lost more than one set of clothing trying to get her spells to work, and…

Well, failing to cast the spells was one thing, but infinitely more humiliating was walking around with her clothing in scraps and her underwear showing off for everyone to see. Those were times when Louise just wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole (whether because God had taken pity on her or some earth mage with a grudge had come to assassinate her, she wasn't picky).

At first, Louise had been more frustrated than anything else. Sure, she hadn't done much better at home with her parents' magic lessons than she did at school, but she'd been hoping, perhaps too desperately, that the Academy would have something to help her, something that would clear up whatever it was that was screwing up her casting ability. When it hadn't, she'd just wanted to scream as loud as she could and punch something, preferably Kirche von Zerbst's face.

But things never got better. In fact, the older she got, the more explosive her failures became, and the more and more Louise was starting to feel less like the daughter of a powerful duke and duchess and more like some kind of freak, like maybe her classmates were right and she really was a hopeless loser, a Zero.

That she didn't belong.

That she was a total failure.

That she would never amount to anything.

That she should just save everyone the trouble and just…disappear.

There were several nights where she had sat in front of her vanity with a steak knife she had pilfered from the dining hall and considered sliding the blade across her wrists. She even had a single, tiny scar, a barely visible white line on her left wrist, where she had tried it one night and lost her nerve before she could cut deep enough to do anything else.

Something, she wasn't sure what, had stopped her from going all the way.

Maybe it was Wardes, she thought sometimes, and the knowledge of how disappointed he would be if she had gone through with it. Maybe it was her mother, she thought at others, who had always taught her to be strong.

Whatever it was, it sustained her long enough to last her first year, where she aced the theoretical portion of her final exams and flunked the practical. After that, she learned that they would be summoning their familiars at the start of the next school year, and something inside of her had jumped up and coiled excitedly in her belly.

Hope.

If she could just summon a familiar, she decided, if she could just do this one thing properly, then maybe her luck would change, maybe she could start casting magic properly, maybe she could start earning the respect she so desperately craved…

Maybe she could stop being the Zero.

She threw herself into research after that, reading up on what kind of familiars were common, what familiars were connected to which of the four elements, what she needed to do to complete the summoning spell, what she could expect realistically as a mage…

And, most importantly, what the rarest, most powerful familiars were and how to improve her chances of summoning one.

Even during her vacation, she spent as much time as she could absorbing text after text dealing with familiars, until she could just about quote both the facts and the folklore off by heart. Before she knew it, school was starting up again, and suddenly, the day had arrived.

She was going to summon a familiar.

She was so giddy and so excited that she nearly didn't sleep the night before, and she had drawn practice circles on every spare sheet of paper she could find, just to make sure she wouldn't get it wrong the next day. When she woke up, even though she had only gotten a few hours of sleep, she felt refreshed, rejuvenated, and energetic, like she had a new lease on life and nothing could get her down.

The morning passed in a blur, and the mingled hope and excitement coiling in her center left her blind and deaf to the normal taunts and teasing that followed her around, and with every minute, the haze of anticipation made her head hotter and hotter as her stomach did flip-flops.

In truth, it was agony to have to wait until the end — for some reason, she was scheduled to go last, so she was forced to watch impatiently as her classmates all performed the ritual and called forth a familiar (though she did snort whenever someone got something incredibly common, like a cat or a sparrow).

And no, she wasn't jealous when that mysterious Tabitha summoned a dragon, nor when that cow, Kirche von Zerbst, summoned a salamander from the Fire Dragon Mountains. Nope. She couldn't be, because Louise was determined to summon something better than all of that, something that would put the both of them to shame.

Like a Rhyme Dragon (though those were said to be extinct).

Or…Or maybe some type of creature that was so rare and so powerful that no one had even heard of it before.

Yeah. That would suit her just fine.

Finally, though, it was her turn, and Louise carved the magic circle into the ground, pulled out her wand, and recited the incantation.

And like everything else she'd tried to do with magic, it exploded.

Worse still, Louise discovered with a plummeting stomach, nothing had come through.

"Miss de La Vallière," Mister Colbert had started.

"Let…let me try again!" Louise said, a little more desperately than she'd intended.

For a moment, Colbert looked like he would refuse, even as her classmates began to jeer, but then he sighed and gave her a nod, so Louise tried a second time.

And then a third.

And then a fourth.

And nothing came through.

"Miss de La Vallière," Mister Colbert started again, sounding regretful.

But Louise couldn't stop. Even though the beginnings of disappointment were starting to overwhelm her earlier excitement, she couldn't stop. This was her only chance — her last chance. She couldn't fail.

She _couldn't_.

Because…if she failed, then…

Then…

"My servant!" Louise began again, talking over Colbert. She ignored the way her voice had cracked and soldiered on. "My servant that exists somewhere in this vast universe!"

_Save me!_

The magic circle engraved in the courtyard began to glow, as it had the other times. There was no reason why it should work this time when it hadn't the others.

"Just give it up, Vallière!" someone said.

"Yeah! It didn't work the last four times, either!" someone else shouted.

_Save me!_

But Louise couldn't fail, because something terrible awaited her if she did.

Because the scar on her wrist told her what would happen if she did.

So she did the only thing that she could to make a difference — she poured as much of her Willpower as she could into the spell, so much that her wand grew hot in her hand, so hot that it burned, and it was only because of the terror of failure that she managed to hold onto it, even though it felt like the skin of her palm was boiling.

"My divine, beautiful, wise, powerful servant!" she continued desperately. "From the very bottom of my heart, I call for you!"

_Save me!_

"In the name of the Five Great Powers," she raised her voice over the pounding of blood in her ears, "in the name of the sacred Pentagon, abide my will and reason…and answer!"

_Please, save me!_

For a long moment that stretched into eternity, nothing happened, not even the explosion of the other times. The last note of her incantation hung in the air, ringing throughout the courtyard, and fell into crushing silence. It seemed that she had failed.

And then, it happened.

And then, like the heartbeat of an old god, pulsing with power as he awoke from an eon-long sleep…

Something thrummed.

In answer to Louise's call, something thrummed, something so basic and so primal that it resonated inside of her chest. It was like she was being filled, filled with something unnamable, something that was so old and so rudimentary that it had no name. It was powerful, powerful beyond anything Louise had ever known, beyond even her _mother_, the legendary Karin, whose wind magic was considered the pinnacle of the modern era.

And in that moment, Louise knew she had succeeded, and a thrill of victory made her heart skip a beat.

And then it exploded.

The ground shuddered underneath the pressure of the wave of heat and force that blasted out from the summoning circle, sending Louise stumbling backwards as cries of alarm arose from her classmates. Immediately following it was a cloud of smoke and debris that expanded like a balloon filling with air, covering the courtyard with a black haze.

"Geez!" someone said. "That was even worse than before!"

"You should just quit, Louise the Zero!" someone else called.

"Just give up already!"

"Yeah!"

But Louise was not paying them any mind, even as Colbert called for quiet. She could not pay them any mind. To begin with, their ramblings and ravings weren't even important.

Because she had just proved them all wrong.

She couldn't see it, she couldn't hear it or smell it, but she knew, with the same surety that the person she saw in the mirror was herself, that her familiar, the being she had summoned, the wonderful, divine, beautiful servant who had answered her call, was standing in the summoning circle, blocked by the smoke.

And the sweet taste of victory was to her the same as a glass of water to a man dying of thirst.

_I did it_, was the only thought in her head.

And then the smoke cleared to reveal a tan-skinned man with red-streaked white hair wearing outdated clothing…and the entire world fell out from under her.

In that moment, Louise wished that she had never been born.

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

**II. Omens**

Tabitha had known for a while that her classmates were ignorant and pampered, that not one of them knew the world and just how ugly it was as well as she did. Oh, Kirche was a bit of an exception, to be sure, but even Kirche could be naïve and childish — Tabitha did not cherish her friend so greatly that she was also blind to Kirche's faults.

To begin with, she would not have survived as long as she had if she ignored things like that.

Considering her uncle and the devious mage to whom he was enthralled, she would have died long ago otherwise.

That was why, while all of the other students jeered and tossed insults at the strange man who had appeared from Louise's summoning, Tabitha instead observed him warily.

Because there was only one other person Tabitha knew who had summoned a human as a familiar.

At first glance, though, the strange man didn't seem like the sort of person who would bewitch his master and manipulate her to his own ends. In fact, considering the way he stood, the way he dressed, the strange sword sheathed at his hip, and a million other little things that she had observed about him, Tabitha thought that he more resembled some honorable knight from a bygone era than anything else.

And the way he talked, the calm, self-assured confidence that vibrated in his voice, made Tabitha want to believe everything he said.

Unlike her uncle's familiar, who used him like a puppet and ruled Gallia in all but name, there was something…heroic about the strange man with his white-and-red hair and his tanned skin. Something that made Tabitha feel like he would be there if she fell, that he would catch her, that even if she didn't want to be, he would save her.

For Tabitha, that was dangerous.

Because she could only rely on herself.

That was the way it had always been, ever since her mother had been poisoned and gone mad. The only one who would be looking out for Tabitha was Tabitha herself. There was no one else to stand beside her.

So Tabitha simply watched silently, peering surreptitiously over the top of her book, as the rest of her classmates jeered and threw insults. Beside her, her familiar, the Rhyme Dragon she had named "Sylphid," gave an uneasy squirm, which only solidified the ominous suspicions Tabitha had had about the man in red.

When the class was dismissed, Tabitha left with the rest of them only because she could not think of any excuses to stay and did not want the man in red to notice that she was wary of him. However, on the way back to her room, she made sure to cast a spell on Louise's door that would alert her when they came back and the moment someone left again.

After that, she went back to her own room, got Sylphid settled in, picked up the book she'd been reading before, and sat down, thumbing to the next chapter.

And then, she waited.

And she waited.

And she waited some more.

After the first half an hour or so, the spell on the door alerted her that Louise and her familiar had returned from outside, and maybe an hour after that, it alerted her again that someone had left. Marking her place with a bookmark, Tabitha set her book down on her nightstand and quietly peeked out of her door and down the hallway.

It was the man in red, looking serious and dangerous and hiding his tension so completely that Tabitha almost couldn't see it. He strode away from Louise's door and, not noticing her spying on him, left down the staircase.

Suspicious, Tabitha thought.

She backed away from her door and roused Sylphid, promised to make it up to her new dragon with an extra treat later on, and quietly and carefully snuck up to the roof of the tower. She peered down over the edge, shushing Sylphid, who was keening in a way that would have been impatient whining in a human, and watched with a wind spell to enhance her vision as the mysterious man walked back to the scorched spot that had been his entry point into this world.

Leaning back, Tabitha murmured a few orders in Sylphid's ears, then hefted herself up onto her dragon's back and gently kicked her heels into Sylphid's shoulders. With a mighty push, Sylphid lifted off of the ground and into the air, then, flapping her large wings like some kind of bird, started to climb higher into the sky and towards the two moons.

When they were safely gliding high above the Academy, Tabitha adjusted her glasses, leaned over the side of Sylphid's neck, and used a spell to enhance her sight and hearing. When she blinked again, she could see down the 470 meters to the ground, where the mystery man was holding a strange, jagged dagger that looked as though it would break the first time it was used in battle.

An athame? Was he about to engage in some sort of Protestant ritual?

For a long moment, he didn't move or do anything at all, just gazed at the dagger in his hand. Tabitha's shoulder was starting to get sore and numb from the position she was hanging in, but she did her best to ignore it and kept her focus entirely on the strange man so that she didn't miss anything he did.

Then, as Tabitha watched on with surprise, the crooked athame vanished into motes of golden light and disappeared like vapor.

"Sorry, guys," the stranger murmured into the wind, "it looks like I'll be gone for a while."

A brisk wind suddenly caught Sylphid's, and Tabitha was jostled about as Sylphid flapped her gigantic wings and dove through the breeze to keep herself from losing stability, but it was enough. The stranger startled far below and looked up — sloppy, Tabitha scolded herself, if she would've heard that, then he most certainly did.

The stranger looked up and said something, but Tabitha's concentration had already been broken, so her spell had sputtered and failed and she couldn't hear him.

But there was no way she could ignore it as he lifted a hand, pointed up at her, and mimed pulling back a bowstring.

"Child's play," she saw his lips form.

A jolt of panic shot through Tabitha's belly, and she leaned closer to Sylphid's ear.

"Back," she muttered urgently.

Sylphid keened lowly, then banked left and turned around, back towards the rampart they'd taken off from, back behind cover from the stranger, who Tabitha was now sure was much, much more dangerous than Uncle's familiar.

Sheffield might have bewitched Gallia's king and turned him into her puppet, but at least she didn't bother to hide her true nature. This stranger was hiding behind a veneer of nobility and generosity, so completely so that he radiated a feeling of safety and security that had nearly fooled Tabitha herself.

That made him much more dangerous.

And Tabitha could do nothing about it.

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

_**To be continued**_

**So, here it is, the first part of **_**Witness**_**. **

**In case it's not obvious, these are side stories — or more accurately, alternate perspectives — to scenes from **_**Miracle of Zero: Kingdom of the Forsaken**_**. That's mainly what will be going on, here.**

**On the other hand, I'll also be adding in some funny, non-canon clips, what the fanfiction community refers to as "Omake." Those ones will be clearly marked as separate with an [Omake] tag. In that vein, I'm also accepting Omake submissions, so if you have a short you want to write and have posted, please feel free to forward it to me. Just make sure it's shorter than 2000 words.**

**I should note, however, that not everyone's omake will be accepted, so please don't feel bad if yours isn't. **

**Also, I was thinking of adding that first scene to the actual MoZ story at the beginning of the first chapter. Let me know what you think of that idea.**

**As always, read, review, enjoy.**


	2. Impassion and Devote

**Witness to a Miracle  
>By: <strong>James D. Fawkes

**III: Impassion and Devote  
>— o.0.O.O.0.o — <strong>

Kirche Augusta Frederica von Anhalt Zerbst was very well-known at Tristain's Academy of Magic.

Depending upon your perspective, you might say she was well-known for all the wrong reasons. Her female classmates could only describe her as a harlot and a scarlet woman. She was everything a proper girl, a proper noble, and most importantly, a proper heir, should not be, at least by Tristainian standards. It was little wonder most of them wanted nothing to do with her.

If you asked her male classmates, though, all you'd get would be glowing praises and serenades to her charm and beauty — and, far more likely, to her cup size and neckline.

Teenage boys, Kirche would tell you, and even older men, were very easy to please.

In case it wasn't clear, Kirche had a lot of experience in matters of physical intimacy. In fact, there probably wasn't a woman in Tristain who had been around as much as she had, and by her own estimates, of her male classmates considered to be of the age of consent, about ninety percent had managed to make their way into her bed at some point or another, and about thirty percent of the females.

If asked to describe her in one word, most of her conquests would say, "Insatiable."

And Kirche's favorite phrase? "Fire is passion."

Quite literally, Kirche loved making love.

Of course, it wasn't, as some of her classmates might suggest, that Kirche enjoyed sex that much — although it was certainly fun if her partner knew what to do and where to touch. It was more like Kirche embodied passion as a concept, and it was just that the physical and emotional highs that came with sex were the most passionate states she could reach.

To boil it all down, it wasn't the sex itself that Kirche most enjoyed, it was the passion and the excitement that went into the act of sex that gave Kirche an almost indescribable high.

For that matter, before anything physical could even start, there were certain prerequisites her prospective partner had to have, or else she wouldn't even consider them. If they couldn't light her spark, if they couldn't fan her flames, if they couldn't start a fire in her belly from a simple kiss, then they weren't worth her time.

If Kirche knew anything about Origins, then she might have wondered if her own was the reason why she could only find temporary satisfaction.

In regards to Louise's familiar, Kirche hadn't really felt anything. Sure, he had a powerful, overwhelming sort of presence to him — at least, to those who knew what to look for — but so did all of the knights (common-born or Noble) that Kirche had ever met, and aside from his dark skin, his mottled hair, and his somewhat outdated clothing, he wasn't really all that special looking, either. A bit exotic, maybe, but no more so than Kirche herself seemed to the Tristainians, which made him even less so to Kirche.

So when he rejected her the first time, she wasn't really hurt or insulted — it was just some harmless flirting, anyway — and when Guiche challenged him to a duel, she thought, like all of her other classmates, that it would be the simple case of a Noble thrashing a commoner. Not especially classy, perhaps, and maybe a bit cruel, but Guiche, for all his flamboyance and arrogance, was actually one of the more powerful boys in the Academy, and it was always thrilling for Kirche to feel the crackle of magic in the air.

That, and Guiche, for all that he was a playboy, happened to be among the ten percent of the boys who had not yet become a notch on her bedpost.

To get a rare taste of one of the strongest boys in her age group, that was reason enough for Kirche to show up and watch. To get a taste of one of the few boys whose flesh she had yet to experience, that was a good motivator, too. The amusement of watching Louise's commoner flounder against Guiche's Valkyries? That was just a bonus.

Suddenly, the murmuring around her picked up and Kirche caught sight of the tall, handsome, if somewhat strange-looking, Shirou Emiya. As he walked towards Guiche, the crowd in front of him parted, and then closed up behind him.

"Gentlemen! It's a duel!"

Guiche gestured dramatically with his rose wand, and the crowd around Kirche gave a cheer.

"Guiche is going to duel Louise's commoner!" someone shouted.

It was after another ten minutes of cheering and Guiche striking sweeping poses, during which Kirche started to become a little impatient, that Guiche turned at last to his opponent and said dramatically, "First of all, I commend you for coming here instead of running away!"

Kirche, being somewhat taller than the other girls in front of her, managed to see the small grin tug at Shirou Emiya's lips.

"Of course. It seems that even I have this wretched thing called 'pride.'"

"As you say, commoner," Guiche sneered. "Very well, let us begin, shall we?"

He flicked his rose wand, and a single petal fluttered to the ground, and from that spot sprouted one of Guiche's famous Valkyries, made of pure bronze. Kirche breathed in the power released in that instant, and something in her belly squirmed excitedly.

My, Guiche, she thought, you're more powerful than I gave you credit for.

"I am Guiche de Gramont. My Runic name is 'the Bronze.' Guiche the Bronze. Therefore, this bronze Valkyrie will be your opponent."

Shirou Emiya's lips curled up again. He really was quite handsome, Kirche decided, if a bit more exotic looking than she was used to. The structure of his face was not remarkably different than the people around him, but the slight slant to his eyes, the somewhat smoother ridge of his brow, set him apart in a way his darker skin couldn't.

"Very well then. Since you have given me your name, it's only proper that I respond in kind. I am Shirou Emiya, and though I have no Runic name, if I did, it would be something like 'the Steel.'"

Guiche sneered again.

"Stupid commoner," he said with dripping condescension. "Only nobles have Runic names."

"As you say," said Shirou Emiya. His little smile hadn't so much as twitched. Then, he glanced between Guiche's Valkyrie and the crowd. "You're going to want to step back. If you don't back away at least ten yards, then I can't guarantee I won't kill you by mistake."

No one listened, muttering about how presumptuous he was, but Kirche's stomach fluttered a little when she realized that he was perfectly serious.

She wondered, had she underestimated him?

He turned back to the Valkyrie, but didn't immediately take some sort of sword stance or otherwise prepare himself to fight.

"It seems rather ill-advised to use a Last Phantasm in a schoolyard brawl against a snot-nosed brat," he said, although he seemed to be talking more to himself than to anyone else.

"A Last Phantom?" Guiche demanded. "What, is that some sort of barbarian sword technique? No, forget about that — did you just call me a brat, commoner?!"

Kirche had to stop herself from smiling. _You're not exactly proving him wrong, Guiche_.

Instead of reaching for the hilt at his hip, however, Shirou Emiya reached instead up over his shoulder, and an invisible spark shot through the air — and through Kirche's stomach — as an orb of golden light appeared there and spat out the hilt of a sword into his waiting hand. Another jolt fluttered through Kirche's belly, pooling in her center as heat spread throughout her body.

Guiche? Guiche was powerful, one of the strongest boys of her year group. There were several who were smarter or more skilled among the Third Years, but they didn't have the same depths, the same raw power, that was hidden inside Guiche. If the average mage in the Tristain Academy of Magic was a pond, then Guiche was a lake, and Louise, for all her failures, was the sea that separated Halkeginia from the unexplored southern continent.

But what she'd just glimpsed was an ocean, vast and unfathomable and stretching outwards over the horizon. An intense, overwhelming _want_ gaped suddenly inside of her, and with a shiver, her knees shaking, Kirche realized that she'd just had a climax — small, not nearly her best ever, but powerful in its abruptness.

"So I think," Shirou Emiya continued, unknowing of what he'd just done to her, "that I'll use something a little more…_tame_."

Kirche had stopped listening, though. She felt her face flush red, and her breath came in little pants, but amongst the whispering and shouts that broke out from Shirou Emiya's little display, she went entirely unnoticed. She hadn't the presence of mind to know whether she was grateful for that or whether she cared at all if she _had_ been noticed; she was too focused on Shirou Emiya, too thrown by the suddenness of what had just happened.

No one had _ever_ gotten that kind of reaction out of her, never ever, not even powerful mages like Old Osmond or Colbert. Arousal, anxious fluttering in her belly, yes, but a jolt so powerful as to inspire a _climax_? It hadn't happened, yet — until now.

Kirche watched the rest of the duel without really paying it too much attention. She waited, paid special notice to Shirou Emiya's skills and his casual dismantling of Guiche's vaunted Valkyries, but the dialogue and the other particulars weren't important. All she saw just proved how exceptional he was — an Adonis, a god in human form, like the old stories of those Protestant gods, like _Thor_ — and just how badly she'd misjudged him by thinking him ordinary.

By the time it was all over, she'd made up her mind. He was the one. He had to be. There was no one who had ever inspired that kind of reaction in her, and amongst all of the Triangles and Squares that she had met, all of whom paled in comparison, there would never be another like him.

And she could never go back to them now that she'd tasted him.

He would not be a simple conquest, as so many others had been. He would be the final one. He would make her an honest woman, as the Tristanians would say. They would live happily ever after, pop out as many kids as he wanted to give her, and every night, she would have him tease her to the most delicious ecstasy imaginable, mingling the physical act of passion with the overwhelming pleasure of his immeasurable power.

Yes, Kirche decided, she would have Shirou Emiya. After all, she finally knew what true love was like.

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

**IV. ****剣王の限界****(Limitations of the Sword King) [Omake]**

"There is a reason for everything." Those who hold a belief in God, or even in many gods, often hold this belief as well, that God or Fate or Destiny has determined a specific series of events with a specific goal in mind. Whether or not this truth exists in the mundane sense is something that has been argued over and over again, by philosophers and theologians alike.

However, when it comes to Halkeginia's sacred Springtime Familiar Summoning ritual, there is indeed a reason for everything. Every familiar chosen and summoned is chosen because it is most fitting for the summoner. Every choice is made because it is the proper choice for both that time and the future.

That holds especially true for the Void Familiars.

In many of the different parallel worlds, Emiya Shirou has been summoned as a familiar to Louise Francoise Le Blanc de La Vallière. It is never, of course, the _same_ Emiya Shirou, just as it is never the _same_ Louise de La Vallière, because it is also never the exact same world. There are always differences and reasons why these disparate choices are made.

In one such world — let's call it "the Hill of Swords" — the version of Emiya Shirou summoned was only a mage. He was a specialist capable of a rare and powerful magic (and only that magic), but he was, in the end, limited to the abilities of a human. Even with the power of Gandalfr, he could not reach the level of Servants in terms of general ability, though he might borrow their strength and skills by using their weapons.

In another such world — let's call it "Miracleverse" — the version of Emiya Shirou had transcended the limitations of the human body by becoming something…else. Though he still experienced the frailties of humanity (disease, fatigue, hunger), his body was hardier and stronger, able to mimic those brilliant existences who appeared like lightning into his life during his youth. Though his skill and talent were only a pale imitation of his beloved Saber, they were still hard-earned abilities honed through battle, and power was enough to bridge the gap.

There is a reason why each of these was summoned into a separate parallel, why one did not appear in the other.

However, in the interest of experimentation, let's take a look at what would happen if one had been summoned in the other's place.

For certain, the King of Swords would progress with startling similarity through the early stages of the Miracleverse — he was still Emiya Shirou, after all, even if he was not quite so similar in skillset to his alternate. The duel with Guiche would proceed like normal, and befriending the maid, Siesta, was only a natural course. The ripples caused would not quite effect the world, yet, so the events would proceed nearly identically to his alternate self's progression.

However…

However, once Fouquet attacked the Academy to steal the Staff of Destruction, and once Fouquet was similarly defeated, things would take a different turn.

Emiya Shirou walked slowly to the thief, Fouquet, who scrambled, wheezing, desperately backwards as he advanced.

"S-stay back!" she panted. "I'm n-not afraid to kill you!"

"I don't care about your thievery," Shirou said menacingly. In his hand, he held Derflinger, his recently acquired sword. "My concern begins with your rampant violence. You _attacked_ a school filled with _children_ without _any_ care for who might get hurt!"

His grip on Derflinger tightened.

"You realize," his voice came out as a low rumble, "that I'm going to kill you, now, don't you?"

Fouquet lifted her wand with her shaking hand and pointed it in his direction, but Shirou didn't so much as flinch.

"You'll be dead before you can incant a single word!" he snarled.

BANG!

A deafening crack like thunder rent the air, and a 4 pound projectile hurtling at the speed of sound rocketed down like a lightning bolt. Emiya Shirou, hearing the shot, immediately tensed and prepared to move, dodge out of the way.

Now, before we continue, there are a few facts that we need to mention, first.

Francis Drake's ship, the Golden Hind, carried twenty-two guns, fourteen of which are "minions," standard armaments that fired munitions somewhere between three and five pounds imperial. A four pound cannonball can be propelled from this kind of cannon with an initial speed of about 1400 feet per second — or, a little bit faster than the speed of sound.

After firing, however, the initial speed quickly drops off because of wind resistance and other natural factors, reducing velocity to such a degree that the cannonball itself can become visible at the longer ranges. It's not exactly something that's easy to dodge, but as far as artillery goes, it's one of the few projectiles still visible after it's fired.

On the other hand, if, for instance, the cannonball was fired down, then the effects of gravity would serve to negate some of the speed loss caused by the wind resistance, so by the time it traveled the distance needed to strike its target — Emiya Shirou — the overall speed would still be about equal to the speed of sound.

Of equal concern are the limitations of the human body. For Emiya Shirou, the King of the Forsaken, his reaction time and speed are equivalent to a Servant's and high enough that dodging a standard bullet is certainly possible. In fact, as our beloved Saber proved in _Fate/Zero_, dodging a bullet should be easy, though difficulty would increase proportionally to the rate of fire, so a submachine gun would be harder to deal with than a handgun.

For Emiya Shirou, King of Swords, however, it's a much harder prospect. Limited, in the end, to what he can accomplish with Reinforcement and the Gandalfr runes, his speed and reaction time would be superhuman, but still below that of a Servant. Since the very best he could hope for is D-Rank Agility, reacting quickly enough to dodge even small arms fire would be a challenge.

Emiya Shirou, King of the Forsaken, was fast enough to fling himself out of the way of the cannonball. His reaction time was fast enough and his body quick enough to remove himself from the path of the shell, saving his life.

Emiya Shirou, King of Swords, was not.

So, when he heard the bang and tensed, preparing to move, head and body starting to turn in the direction of the sound, he did not dodge quickly enough, and the cannonball hit him full on.

In a single instant, before he even realized what happened, the entire left side of his chest, from the sternum over and the hip up to his neck, was obliterated.

"SHIROU!"

Louise called his name as he fell to the ground, but there was no point. He could not hear her anyway.

Emiya Shirou, King of Swords, was dead.

**BAD END #1: Wrong Way to Paradise**

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

**V. ****理想の使い魔の限界****(Limitations of the Ideal Familiar) [Omake]**

"There is a reason for everything." Those who hold a belief in God, or even in many gods, often hold this belief as well, that God or Fate or Destiny has determined a specific series of events with a specific goal in mind. Whether or not this truth exists in the mundane sense is something that has been argued over and over again, by philosophers and theologians alike.

However, when it comes to Halkeginia's sacred Springtime Familiar Summoning ritual, there is indeed a reason for everything. Every familiar chosen and summoned is chosen because it is most fitting for the summoner. Every choice is made because it is the proper choice for both that time and the future.

That holds especially true for the Void Familiars.

In many of the different parallel worlds, Emiya Shirou has been summoned as a familiar to Louise Francoise Le Blanc de La Vallière. It is never, of course, the _same _Emiya Shirou, just as it is never the _same_ Louise de La Vallière, because it is also never the exact same world. There are always differences and reasons why these disparate choices are made.

In one such world — let's call it "the Familiar of Ideals" — the version of Emiya Shirou summoned was an inhuman mage. He was a mutated specialist capable of a few rare and powerful magics and some more common crafts (and only those magics), but he was, in the end, just barely superhuman and limited by how much he has his abilities currently enhanced to. Just with the power of Gandalfr, he would barely reach the level of a particularly unimpressive Servant Assassin in terms of general ability, unlike other Shirou he couldn't even borrow greater power and skill from using other Servants' copied weapons.

In another such world — let's call it "Miracleverse" — the version of Emiya Shirou had also transcended the limitations of the human body by becoming something…else. Though he still experienced the frailties of humanity (disease, fatigue, hunger), his body was hardier and stronger, more naturally and easily able to mimic those brilliant existences who appeared like lightning into his life during his youth. Though his skill and talent were only a pale imitation of his beloved Saber, they were still hard-earned abilities honed through battle, and power was enough to bridge the gap.

There is a reason why each of these was summoned into a separate parallel, why one did not appear in the other.

However, in the interest of experimentation, let's take a look at what would happen if one had been summoned in the other's place.

For certain, The Ideal of Heroes would progress with startling similarity through the early stages of the Miracleverse — he was still Emiya Shirou, after all, even if he was not quite so similar in skill-set to his alternate. The duel with Guiche would proceed like normal, and befriending the maid, Siesta, was only a natural course. The ripples caused would not quite effect the world, yet, so the events would proceed nearly identically to his alternate self's progression.

However…

However, once Fouquet attacked the Academy to steal the Staff of Destruction, and once Fouquet was similarly defeated, things would take a different turn.

Emiya Shirou walked slowly to the thief, Fouquet, who scrambled, wheezing, desperately backwards as he advanced.

"S-stay back!" she panted. "I'm n-not afraid to kill you!"

"Your thievery really doesn't matter that much to me," Shirou said plainly. In his hands he held Derflinger, his recently acquired magical magic-eating talking sword, and Wrought, his other semi-talking ghost-sword creature and old comrade. "My real concerns begin with your rampant violence. You _attacked_ a school filled with _children _without _any_ care for who might get hurt. The chaos you've caused and the destruction you've wrought, no not you big guy, are going to have massive repercussions, and Arceus only knows what trouble will happen because of it that'll take forever to clean up and repair."

His grip on Derflinger and Wrought tightened as he pointed the former at the downed criminal. He held Derflinger as such for a few moments waiting for her to get the message. When she didn't drop her wand he couldn't help but sigh in exasperation.

"You realize," Shirou continued, "that you can't win or escape, right? Your only option is to surrender or be dragged unconscious by me to the authorities to face the consequences of your crimes."

Fouquet lifted her wand with her shaking hand and pointed it in his direction, but Shirou didn't so much as flinch. Why should he, the woman hadn't even pushed him hard enough to use anything more than the passive strength from his runes, and he had B Rank Magic Resistance to boot. She simply was not capable of being a threat.

"You'll be out before you can incant even a single word." he warned.

BANG!

A deafening crack like thunder rent the air, and a 4 pound projectile hurtling at the speed of sound rocketed down like a lightning bolt. Emiya Shirou, hearing the shot, immediately tensed and prepared to move, dodge out of the way.

Now, before we continue, there are a few facts to get out of the way.

Francis Drake's ship, the Golden Hind, carried twenty-two guns, fourteen of which are "minions," standard armaments that fired munitions somewhere between three and five pounds imperial. A four pound cannonball can be propelled from this kind of cannon with an initial speed of about 1400 feet per second — or, a little bit faster than the speed of sound.

After firing, however, the initial speed quickly drops off because of wind resistance, reducing velocity to such a degree that the cannonball itself can become visible at the longer ranges. It's not exactly something that's easy to dodge, but as far as artillery goes, it's one of the few projectiles still visible after it's fired.

On the other hand, if, for instance, the cannonball was fired down, then the effects of gravity would serve to negate some of the speed loss caused by the wind resistance, so by the time it traveled the distance needed to strike its target — Emiya Shirou — the overall speed would still be about equal to the speed of sound.

Of equal concern are the limitations of an under-enhanced body. For Emiya Shirou, the King of the Forsaken, his reaction time and speed are equivalent to an excellent Servant's, easily high enough that dodging a standard bullet is no great task. In fact, as his beloved Saber proved in the Fourth Holy Grail War, dodging a bullet would be easy, though difficulty would increase proportionally to the rate of fire, so a submachine gun would be harder to deal with than a handgun.

For Emiya Shirou, The Ideal of Heroes, however, it's a much harder prospect. Limited, in the end, to what he can accomplish without any Reinforcement and only the Gandalfr runes, his speed and reaction time would be superhuman, but still below that of a good Servant. Since all he had at the time was D-Rank Strength, Endurance, and Agility reacting quickly enough to dodge even small arms fire would be more difficult than if he was fully enhanced with his magecraft. So much so that it would almost be a miracle if he did.

Emiya Shirou, King of the Forsaken, was fast enough to fling himself out of the way of the cannonball. His reaction time was fast enough and his body quick enough to remove himself from the path of the shell, saving his life.

Emiya Shirou, The Ideal of Heroes, was not.

So, when he heard the bang and tensed, preparing to move, head and body starting to turn in the direction of the sound, he did not dodge quickly enough, and the cannonball hit him full on.

In a single instant, before he even realized what happened, the entire left side of his chest, from the sternum over and the hip up to his neck, was obliterated.

"SHIROU!"

Louise called his name as he fell to the ground, Wrought leaping clear with Derflinger in one ribbony hand and a small black and blue ball in the other. There was no point to Louise's scream. Shirou couldn't hear her anyway.

Emiya Shirou, The Ideal of Heroes, could only be dead.

What the fuck happened to Insert Horizontal Line for linebreaks in the forums?

BANG! BANG! Two more shots sounded, and this time expecting the fire, Wrought was able to leap in front of their target, Louise, and slash one of the projectiles away with Derf before erecting a transparent barrier of hexagonal shields to surround himself and his Master's Master. More shots sounded, each one accompanied by a flying ball of metal that hammered his shield, and then exploded pushing both himself and his charge farther back just over 50 of his body lengths.

No more loud explosions went off to announce their incoming demise. Which was good for Wrought because **King's Shield** was at its limit and fading, it would be a while before he could rely on it again. Hopefully their new opponent wouldn't figure that out, but thinking of said opponent... Wrought followed the trajectories of the cannon fire that pulped his Master's chest cavity and assessed him. Too far away to easily tell, but... correction, it looked female with its long hair and coat blowing in the strong winds. Strong winds because she was astride a floating ship far above the ground! Wrought wondered why his Master had to attract all the weirdness when he wasn't actively running head first into it?

"OI!" the figure called down. "YOU COMIN', OR WHAT?"

Forquet stood, still gasping a little, and glanced once at Wrought before rising into the air. Wrought once again wondered if the average powerless human was from some genetic deficiency Arceus accidentally allowed to flourish before he drew back the pokeball in his hand to throw. Shirou was out of commission and he himself wouldn't be able to protect Louise and handle the enemies at the same time, one of which could only be a Servant like those he had fought against with his Master in the Fifth and Fourth Holy Grail Wars, so the only recourse would be to blow one of Shirou's secr. The thought was truncated before completion as a much smaller CRACK heralded a much smaller ball of metal narrowly missing Louise's face.

"NONE OF THAT, NOW!" her voice called down. "YOU'LL BE KEEPING WHATEVER LITTLE FRIEND YOU'VE GOT IN THAT LITTLE BALL IN IT, YA HEAR?"

What the fuck happened to Insert Horizontal Line for linebreaks in the forums?

Forquet was almost to the escape ship when she heard something she never wanted to hear again in her life.

"DO IT WROUGHT!"

Shouting. Specifically, shouting from someone who should be dead. Except he wasn't; all heads turned to the source of the voice lying in a pile of his own golden glowing bones, organs, and blood. Bones, organs, and blood that less than a minute ago were pink paste and black char.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" CRACK!

Shirou's heroic and revolting outburst was silenced by the Ship Captain's exclamation and the subsequent flintlock pistol shot removing his head in a spray of golden gore, but it served its purpose as Wrought used the distraction to chuck the pokeball in his hand.

With a terrible thundering roar and storm of lightning that belied any expectations of the little ball it came from, all were treated to the glorious sight of the nine foot, six inch, seven-hundred and sixty point six pound Legendary Deep Black Dragon Zekrom's entrance*. Zekrom faced Shirou's still body, now regenerating its head, and the vehicle fleeing above it before turning to regard the shorter sword pokemon who merely pointed back at the airship with an aggressive wave of Derfinger and a metallic screech all but shouting "It was them." Such a notion was also carried by the pointed Derflinger who voiced as much.

Linebreak 'cause we gotta keep a long story short!

Forquet would've been lying if she said the last things she ever saw of the world weren't impressive. Before the crash and shrapnel that took away her sight she was treated to a spectacular showing of the Black Dragon erupting in blueish Anti-World lightning that cloaked its frame and plowing through the cannon fire and ships of a Heroic Spirit's EX Ranked Noble Phantasm airfleet while the heroic owner of said ships cursed and futilely struggled to escape the dragon.

*Shirou would later be told that Forquet almost fell to her death when she forgot her levitation spell two inches from being on the enemy ship. He would also be sworn into secrecy by his Master that she most certainly, and absolutely, did not wet herself like a scared little girl, even the tiniest bit, when a bolt struck mere feet away from her person. But that is later, and not now.

**OMAKE END #1: Just Another Day In Paradise**

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

_**To be continued**_

**Part two of Witness.**

**Wow, that second one was really dark for an omake. **

**Anyway, that's not a slight at GB, it's just a statement of the obvious: GB started the FoZxFSN crossover thing by being the first major story for it, but that doesn't mean we have to hold it on a pedestal. For however cool he might have been, GB's version of Shirou would be woefully outclassed in **_**Miracle of Zero**_**, and Miracle's Shirou would be ridiculously overpowered in **_**Hill of Swords**_** — so much so that it would be a boring cakewalk. **

**In other words, each version belongs in its proper story.**

**The last short was an Omake, a variant of the one right before it, submitted by "formerlyarandomreviewer," containing a version of Shirou ostensibly from his own (planned) story. I took the liberty of assuming what he meant about "Ideal Familiar," hence why the Japanese word used is "ideal," as in "dream" or "ambition," rather than "ideal," as in "best" or "perfect." **

**On a final note, I can't resist saying that Shirou has tripped his first flag in Halkeginia — Kirche route unlocked!**

**Not really, but it made me smile to write it.**

**As always, read, review, enjoy.**


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